Message In A (Possibly) Haunted Mansion
by punctuationmatters
Summary: The video game Message In A Haunted Mansion in novella form. Nancy's more human, Charlie's more hot and plot twists are (gasp!) actually explained. There will be Nancy/Charlie.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello lovelies. MHM is my favourite Nancy Drew game and so I've decided to make it my own through the process of literary adaptation. Nancy's a bit more human, Charlie's a bit more hot, and plot twists are actually explained. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I unfortunately own nothing.

Chapter One: In Which We Are Introduced To The Mansion

The minute Nancy entered the room her eyes grew wide with wonder.

The room was beautiful. Every inch of it was antique, from the huge king bed in the centre of the room to the vanity table in the corner to the mantelpiece on the wall. All the furniture had been carefully and painstakingly carved out of a rich, deep brown wood and adorned with touches of gold. Oriental-inspired tapestries hung on the walls, adding to the room's air of opulence. Nancy couldn't help thinking how out of place her suitcase would look amidst the lavish interior of what was to be her bedroom for the next few weeks.

The mansion dated back to gold-rush era California and was still preserved in the style of the period. All the original furniture had remained in the house after the original owners sold it, but the actual house itself had begun to crumble, and that's where Rose Green had stepped in. The house had gone reasonably cheap on the market due to the state it was in; but despite the effort that running the house had demanded, Rose's affinity for the 1800s had gotten the better of her. She intended to transform the San Francisco mansion into a bed-and-breakfast and open it the following month or so.

However, shortly after renovations commenced, accidents began to occur. At least, that was what Rose had told Hannah Gruen, Nancy's housekeeper. At first, the mishaps seemed irritating, but not of great importance – some roofing materials had gone missing, along with a few tools, and the shrubbery in the front garden had been vandalised. But the accidents quickly became more serious – a gas leak, a burst water main in one of the upstairs bedrooms, a scaffolding collapse. Unable to determine whether the accidents were just that, or whether something more sinister was at work, Rose had invited Nancy to come investigate under the pretence of helping with the renovations.

Nancy had welcomed the invitation and made her way to San Francisco as soon as was possible. She had recently come out of a two-year relationship with her ex-boyfriend Ned Nickerson and was taking advantage of any distraction she could get. A case would be the perfect opportunity to leave any traces of her life with Ned behind in River Heights and to start anew.

Nancy laid her suitcase down on the bed, the plush red duvet billowing around it. She was thinking of heading out to get herself acquainted with the house when something caught her eye. One of the bedknobs seemed to be crooked, as though somebody had screwed it off the bedpost and replaced it unevenly. Nancy tried twisting the knob off with her hands, but it was no use. She mentally reminded herself to keep her eyes out for something to help her.

She was about to head out of the room when she spied a poem hanging on the wall next to the door. It read:

_Listen, my child, to this story of dreams_

_ And know that the beginning is more difficult than it seems._

_ When the ten daughters are reunited in order_

_ When the four-sided box loses its border_

_ When the eye of the phoenix is in your hand_

_ When the bird of fire can see again_

_ When the moon sleeps, and the sun plays,_

_ The king of the sky will shine his rays._

_ And hidden beneath a river of colours_

_ Will lie a gate to golden wonders._

It was a beautiful poem, but looking closely, she noticed that one word from each line was highlighted. Child, beginning, daughters, four, eye, fire, moon, king, river, gold… Nancy couldn't see any connection, but she jotted the words down in her journal just in case anything came up later. Snapping the notebook shut, she laid it down on the bedside table and left her room.

The hallways were beautiful, adorned with Victorian-era portraits, gold-framed mirrors, and delicate vases of flowers resting atop equally delicate wooden tables, but they couldn't hold a candle to Nancy's bedroom. It was as Nancy was walking toward the staircase that she heard a strange humming noise. Frowning, she followed the noise to one of the bedroom doors. Her expression cleared as she remembered something Rose had mentioned to her in the letter. _This must be Abby's room._

After Nancy knocked on the door a woman appeared, hovering in the doorway. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe even forty, with long, unnaturally red hair, narrow brown eyes and a smiling face.

"Hi, Nancy! I see you've arrived safely… but I'm sensing an aura of danger around you. I can tell you're an inquisitive type, a little skeptical… and that you don't believe in ghosts," she finished triumphantly.

Abby was a close friend of Rose's and helped her run the mansion. She was kind enough, once you got past her fascination – no, obsession – with the supernatural. Abby was a firm believer in ghosts and Rose had mentioned to Nancy that she believed spirits resided over the mansion. She had also mentioned that Abby truly thought she could communicate with these 'restless spirits'.

Raising an eyebrow, Nancy asked, "How do you know I don't believe in ghosts?"

Abby shot Nancy a slightly condescending look. "I know how to communicate with the spirits, and I know things about people that they don't tell me. Call it intuition, or ESP. The spirits in this house are interested in you, especially since you don't believe in them, Nancy."

Nancy, guessing that Abby would ramble on in this manner all night given the opportunity, quickly cut straight to the point. "Does your intuition tell you who could be behind these recent accidents?"

Abby seemed to be considering what to say. "I'm not sure. But, for some reason, the name 'Valdez' has a strong connection with this mansion."

Nancy narrowed her eyes, a habit of hers when she grew curious. "Who-"

Before Nancy could finish the question, Abby interrupted. "Now, if you will please excuse me, I need to prepare myself for this evening. Maybe after tonight you won't need to ask all these questions." Abby retreated into her room, shutting the door in Nancy's face, and resumed humming.

Nancy had the feeling Abby over-dramatized things_. _A _lot_.

_Creak! _

Nancy winced as the stairs creaked underneath her feet. She hated that noise. Her detective's brain had always associated it with being caught.

Rather than look around the house, she decided to go straight to Rose first, and then she'd know what to look _for. _She found Rose in the dining room, sitting at the head of the table.

Rose looked to be in her mid-forties and was African-American, with short, greying black hair and large round glasses. She seemed a kindly woman, and in the letter she had written to Nancy debriefing her about her stay in the mansion she sounded a practical, no-nonsense kind of woman. _Weird,_ Nancy thought, recalling Abby's over-the-top personality and the fact that the two were close friends.

When Rose saw Nancy, she grinned warmly. "Hello, Nancy. I'm very glad you could come out here. We could really use your help, seeing how far we are behind schedule. Are you all ready to do some renovation work?"

Nancy nodded enthusiastically. "I sure am!" Then, more serious, she asked, "The house is beautiful, but it must have quite a history… what do you know about it?"

"Not very much," Rose said, "but Abby found some interesting old papers that might give us a clue about the history of the house. They're in the parlour if you want to take a peek. There's also an old-time saloon in the basement, so it's possible the house was once a hotel."

"A saloon!" Nancy exclaimed incredulously. "This place really _does _have a history. Do you know much about the owner?"

Rose shook her head no. "Unfortunately most of the records for these old houses were destroyed in the Great Earthquake. We still have the papers I mentioned before, though."

Rose lowered her voice. "Now, Nancy, about those accidents – well, I'm not one to believe in bad luck, but it's just been one thing after another. Maybe Charlie doesn't have the expertise for these renovations, but his rates are just _so _affordable. I sometimes wonder, though, if this house would be worth more burned to the ground…" She sighed. "Enough chatting. If you have the time, there are some broken tiles on the hallway ceiling you can scrape off, although you'll need a paint scraper or chisel for the job. If that's all…"

Nancy understood that she was being dismissed. "Wait – before I go, what's Abby planning for tonight?"

Rose chuckled. "Oh, Abby seems to think she can contact the 'spirits' causing all the accidents. She'll be holding a séance later on in the basement. Now, you go get started. I suggest talking to Charlie – he's down in the basement working on some tiles. He might be able to tell you a bit about the renovations." Nancy nodded and left the room.  
So far, what Nancy had seen of the house was exquisite, but a little eerie. She shivered with anticipation – she was in a beautiful old mansion, surrounded by mystery and adventure. Things were finally looking up for her – after all, these past few weeks had been dismal to say the least. Her father had been working on a particularly complicated case, which meant Nancy had barely seen him at all. Hannah's husband was ill, and the two situations combined meant Nancy was often alone in the house. And Ned – well, that was a whole different story…

Nancy pushed open the basement door and headed down the steps, wincing at the creaking noise the stairs uttered. A young man about Nancy's age stood at a workbench in the centre of the room. He was tall, brunette, with warm brown eyes and an athletic figure. He wore a slightly dirty white t-shirt and blue jeans, and his hair fell over his eyes as he worked.

Nancy walked over to where he stood and placed her hands on the bench. Charlie looked up and smiled.

"Hey, you must be Nancy. I'm Charlie."

"Nice to meet you." Nancy said. "You must have a lot of experience to work on such a big house…" she said, then blushed. The words had come out a lot more flirtatiously than she'd intended them to.

Charlie grinned. "Not really, but I catch on fast, and I know the basics. I don't really mind getting my hands dirty, though – this place will look great once it's finished."

Nancy nodded. She already liked Charlie's positive attitude. "I'm sure it will. But… do you think you'll be able to open in time with all of these delays?"

Charlie's face darkened suddenly. "People are blaming me for the accidents, but it's not my fault! I know what I'm doing." He sighed. "Listen, Nancy, I really need to get back to work. Sorry." He went back to restoring the tile pointedly.

Nancy turned away. She seemed to have hit a nerve, and for some reason the fact disturbed her more than it should have. She mentally shook herself and left the basement. _Time to get to work._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again, and thanks to FutreHeRstaff for being my sole reviewer! Hopefully as the story continues I'll gain some more. Feedback is much appreciated so be brutally honest! Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Own nada.

Chapter Two: In Which Nancy Looks Around And Abby Makes A Fool Of Herself

As Nancy pushed open the door to the entrance hall the mahogany grandfather clock to the side of the room chimed twelve. Nancy jumped at the sound, then chuckled under her breath. _Calm yourself, Drew._

The hall was beautiful. There was a phoenix motif in the middle of the polished wooden floor, old sepia photographs of the house and its previous inhabitants on the walls, and a huge grand staircase leading up to the second floor. Each banister of the staircase was topped with a golden phoenix head. Nancy noticed that one of the heads was missing a ruby eye.

Nancy walked to the right side of the room and opened the parlour door. The room inside was classic Victorian-era. The walls were decorated with a cream-colored wallpaper and accentuated with a rich brown wood. The curtains and chairs were of the same floral fabric, an elaborately framed mirror hung above the mantelpiece, and a wooden desk stood in the corner of the room with an old-fashioned telephone and a vase of red roses atop it.

Nancy made her way towards an armchair upholstered with a floral print. A cardboard box sat atop it, filled with papers. _These must be the papers Rose mentioned before._

Nancy gingerly lifted the first paper out of the box and examined it. It was a list of subscribers for a telephone company dated June 18th 1894. One of the names in particular stood out to her.

_Valdez, E, Hotelier, 4653 California St._

So this E. Valdez had been one of the previous owners of the mansion. And if E. Valdez had been a hotelier, it was quite likely the mansion used to be a hotel.

Nancy rifled through the rest of the yellowed letters and articles. From these she understood that E. Valdez had made many generous donations to the Ladies' Protection and Relief Society, a San Francisco society of the 1800's focusing on providing a home to the less fortunate women and children of the era.

Deciding there was nothing more in the parlour of interest, Nancy opened the door connecting to the library. Immediately a warm, relaxing atmosphere engulfed her. The room was cosy, with bookcases set into every wall, a huge wooden desk on the left side of the room, a table with tiles laid out in a game of Mahjong on the right, and in the middle of the far wall a fireplace with two luxurious red chairs on either side. Various knick-knacks were scattered throughout the room, including old paintings on the walls, statuettes among the books on the shelves and a globe of the world in one corner.

Approaching the desk, Nancy realized that someone had been working there. Papers littered its surface and a laptop sat on a leather placemat. She remembered the schedule Rose had sent her – it mentioned someone named Louis working in the library. Rose had mentioned him very little to Nancy, which was odd. She decided to not snoop unless she found Louis suspicious.

A small pile of books sat on one of the chairs by the fireplace as though someone had been reading them. Nancy went over to take a look. The first one, _The Theory of Music_, seemed fairly average. She picked up the second one. It was _Legends of San Francisco, _and the corner of a page had been folded over. Nancy flipped the book open. Somebody had been reading about Lizzie Applegate, whoever that was.

_"Well loved by San Franciscans both for her cultural and humanitarian contributions, Lizzie Applegate was a talented actress and songwriter who began her career entertaining miners at local gold camps. In 1880, Lizzie wrote and starred in the tremendously successful play, The Bandit's Treasure…" _On the page opposite to the text was printed a black-and-white picture of a Victorian-era lady, with curled hair and a modest gown yet an adventurous twinkle in her eye.

Straightening up, Nancy noticed that two of the tiles above the fireplace were missing. She made a mental note to find and replace them in her spare time.

Nancy decided there was nothing else to investigate in the library then, and made up her mind to visit it again when Louis was in. Remembering Rose's instructions, she made her way up the grand staircase to the second floor to scrape off the broken tiles on the ceiling. As she climbed the stairs, Nancy swore she heard a faint hissing noise. She paused, listening alertly, when the faintest voice imaginable whispered _'I see you…'_ Clutching the banister tight, Nancy shivered and continued up the stairs. _There has to be some sort of explanation for that._

Nancy approached the ladder at the end of the room, sizing up the damage to the broken tiles. There was a paint scraper on top of some pots of paint by the ladder, and Nancy took it in her hand, carefully climbing the rickety ladder. She slowly scraped the damaged tiles off the ceiling, one by one, until –

Nancy gasped. A trapdoor was embedded in the ceiling, an ancient keyhole gleaming dully at her. _I've got to tell Rose about this!_

She quickly made her way downstairs and burst into the dining room. "Rose, I've got to tell you what I found-"

Rose sighed apologetically. "Nancy, I'm sure it's very interesting, but unless it's really important, I've got other things to worry about."

Nancy nodded, slightly disappointed, when she noticed the weary look on Rose's face and the paper in her hand. Putting two and two together, she said, "I'll tell you another time, then. Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I've got just one question, if you're not busy…"

Rose nodded. "Quickly. I haven't got much time."

"How did you find Charlie?" It was odd that Rose would choose someone so young for such a big project, and that question had been preying on her mind, although she didn't know why.

Rose frowned as though recalling a memory. "He just showed up one day. It was really odd. I remember Abby and I were in the basement talking about hiring someone to help us. Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang and there stood Charlie, looking for work!"

That was certainly a weird coincidence, if nothing else. Yet there was something a bit sketchy about the story that Nancy couldn't put her finger on. _Oh well, _she sighed to herself, _I can always scope Charlie out later._ For the time being, she turned and made for the library. If she remembered correctly Louis should be working there according to the schedule Rose had sent her.

Nancy was right. Louis was sitting at the desk, a book in hand. He looked to be in his fifties, with grey hair, a creased face and a very scholarly look about him. Louis, Rose had said in her letter, was an antique dealer and expert on the Victorian era. He came to the mansion every afternoon from noon until five o'clock and stayed in the library, offering advice on authentic décor amongst other things. When he saw Nancy approaching, he smiled warmly.

"Hello. I was so wrapped up in my book, I didn't hear you come in. My name is Louis Chandler." His voice was surprisingly deep.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I'm Nancy Drew. I came out to help Rose and Abby with the renovations. Are you a friend of Rose's?" Nancy asked politely.

Louis paused. "Well, yes – I'd like to think so. But I'm an antique dealer, and a client told me that Rose and Abby had recently acquired the estate. I'm an authority on the Victorian era, so they were only too happy to let me use the library in exchange for my advice on the renovations."

"What are you using the library for?" Nancy asked curiously.

"Research. This library contains many rare books and documents that predate the Great Earthquake. It was quite a find for someone such as myself."

"What are you looking for in these books?"

Louis abruptly cut Nancy off. "I'm sorry, but I'm quite busy at the moment, and although I'd like to talk, I really don't have the time. Please excuse me." He looked back down at his book.

Nancy took the hint and retreated, feeling confused. She was just making conversation, but apparently she had hit a nerve. She blew air out between her lips, feeling frustrated, as she walked through the winding corridors towards her room, intending on refreshing herself before lunch. She was feeling a rush of information overload – after all, she had been sleuthing the whole morning and had a lot to think about. _As soon as I can I'll sort this all out in my journal_, she promised herself. Brainstorming in her journal had always helped Nancy organize herself.

Just as she was about to open the door to her room, she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. She jumped and whirled around, her strawberry-blonde hair whipping her face. Abby chuckled, and Nancy flushed. "The spirits want to speak to you, Nancy. Tonight, I will channel their energies to deliver a message. Meet me down in the basement… if you dare."

Rose and Nancy sat side by side, opposite Abby, at a small circular table in the corner of the basement. The room was dimly lit and a few lavender-scented candles were placed at various intervals around the room. Abby had dressed up for the occasion; there was a purple silk turban wrapped around her richly coloured red hair, a jewel fastening it at her forehead.

"Let us begin," she said, fanning a deck of tarot cards out on the table. She took a deep breath. "We are gathered here tonight to contact the shades of those who have passed before us." As she talked, her hands circled over the crystal ball in the centre of the table. Nancy thought the gesture was probably intended to be ominous, but it looked fake, almost comical, to her. Her voice grew louder. "Gaze into the crystal ball… it will answer all of our questions."

Nancy felt chills run down her spine despite her disbelief. Suddenly, the ivory keys of the piano started hitting notes, melodies twisting and turning through the air, breaking the silence. Rose gasped, and Nancy gripped the table with white knuckles. The piano stopped, and a glass flask on the bar shattered, the pieces falling to the floor. _How is that possible?_

Smoke began filling the clear dome of the crystal ball, commanding the attention of Nancy and Rose. A deep voice spoke, seeming to emanate from the ball itself.

"Who has called me forth from the great beyond?"

"We have," answered Abby. "Are you the spirit known as Valdez?"

"I was once called that in the world of the living," answered the voice. "I have come back, searching for her. My wife… where can she be?" As these last words were said the hazy figure of a lady dressed in white, blonde curls tumbling down her back, glided across the mirror behind the bar.

The crystal ball cleared up and Abby leaned back in her chair. "The spirits have spoken," she said. "The séance is over."

Rose stood. Her voice shook slightly although Nancy could tell she was trying to keep calm. "We've got a busy day tomorrow, and no more time for these games, Abby." She pushed her chair in and walked to the stairs leading to the hallway.

"Make sure you blow out the candles on your way out."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello again! Thanks to Squeegee Beckenheim for the reviews and hey, I even got myself a favourite! All right! I apologize in advance for the lack of interaction in this chapter but Nancy's getting her midnight sleuth on. More next time, I promise.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned. But no.

Chapter 3: In Which Nancy Sneaks Around And Discovers Things

Nancy looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty and everyone was asleep, resting up for a busy day the next day. Well… everyone but her. Nancy figured that now would be the perfect time to start _really _looking around, without having to answer questions from the others. But before she could do that, she had a matter to take care of.

Nancy took the paint scraper out of her satchel and in one deft movement popped the bedknob off the bedpost. A large, slightly rusty, old-fashioned key was nestled in the hollow part of the post. Nancy pocketed the key, replaced the bedknob and slipped out into the hallway.

As soon as she did so, the sound of a woman crying assaulted her. Nancy frowned, taking a step into the dimly lit hall, and the noise grew louder. She heard a footstep behind her and whirled around, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure slipping down the staircase. Nancy turned around, an idea dawning on her. She knelt down, pressing her ear to the vent in the wall. The crying sound grew louder. Nancy took her well-loved screwdriver out of her satchel and unscrewed each of the four screws at each corner of the vent. Popping the covering off, Nancy stared into the vent. A speaker stared back at her.

Replacing the vent, Nancy had to admire the audacity of whoever planted the speakers there. Was it a ploy to scare people? But who would want to do that – and why?

Nancy continued on down the stairs and found herself in the dining room. Without Rose sitting at the table, the room looked strangely empty, and Nancy was able to appreciate its beauty. Both the dining table and the chairs accompanying it had been delicately carved out of a beautiful brown wood. A chandelier hung majestically over the table, the walls were papered with a pale minty green, and adornments such as fragile-looking china plates and exquisite paper fans were propped up in a cabinet to the far side of the room.

Nancy sat down at Rose's place at the table and looked at the papers she often saw Rose studying. One was a house 'to do' list; one was a letter to Rose and Abby from Chandler Interiors, Louis' company; and one a list of the accidents. But one in particular stood out to Nancy.

"_Dear Ms Green,_

_I have amended your fire insurance policy per your instructions. The property located at 4653 California Lane, San Francisco, CA, is now insured for the sum of $1,000,000 (one million dollars) against fire or earthquake damage. The policy lists you as the sole benefactor. We thank you for your patronage…"_

Nancy could read no more. Rose had insured the mansion for _one million dollars _against fire or earthquake damage? Where on earth had she gotten hold of that kind of money? If Nancy recalled correctly, it was Abby that had helped Rose secure the mansion as her own in the first place.

Nancy decided to visit the basement. Now that Charlie was no longer there working, she figured she could really start to snoop around. Besides, she wanted to find out how Abby rigged the séance – she was positive it had been faked.

Nancy pushed open the basement door and stepped cautiously down the stairs. Taking her time and making sure to make no noise, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared.

You could see how it was possible the mansion had once been a hotel. To the left of the room was an old-fashioned bar, complete with stools and a dusty antique cash register. To the right was a piano, and it was easy to imagine somebody playing it as their company enjoyed a drink or two at the bar. A fireplace stood at the far side of the basement, and next to it was the table where the séance was held. Charlie's workbench was in the centre of the room.

Nancy made her way to the bar. She ran her fingers over the cash register, and a draw popped open, an elaborately designed key inside. She pocketed the key, and suddenly had an idea. The ghostly lady that had floated across the mirror in the séance had probably been projected there- but how?

Nancy went to the small, circular table the séance was held at, and bending down, noticed that a little panel rested in the single, thick wooden leg of the table. Prying the panel open, she nodded to herself, satisfied.

Inside the hollow leg of the table was a projector, as well as a smoke machine and a cassette player. Nancy popped open the lid of the cassette player and took the tape, thinking she could play it later. Closing the door, she straightened up and pondered this. Abby had faked the séance – but why? Didn't she believe in the supernatural? Why would she feel the need to fake something she 'believed' so strongly in? Unless she didn't really believe in ghosts – but why would she pretend to?

Nancy had all she needed from the basement. She turned to start back up the stairs, but as soon as she did the door slammed and Nancy heard footsteps heading away from it. Nancy froze. She had closed the door behind her entering the basement. Someone had been watching her.

Nancy made her way back to the second floor, intending to pay a visit to the secret attic she had discovered. She shivered, remembering that someone could be watching her that very moment, and looked over her shoulder nervously. She saw nothing but an empty corridor, and using the key from the basement, she unlocked the trapdoor and climbed up, making sure to close the door beneath her.

Standing in the attic, Nancy felt a little afraid of what she might find. The attic was almost pitch black, so Nancy turned her flashlight on, feeling instantly safer as light extinguished the darkness. _Now to look around._

Some ancient old newspapers lay crumbling on a barrel, weighed down by one of the tiles from the library fireplace. Nancy took the tile and sat down at a writing-desk in the corner of the attic. Trying the key she had found in her room – it fit! – Nancy pushed open the lid of the desk. Inside were dozens of old papers and a photograph in a small frame. Nancy inspected the photo in the frame – it was the same as the photograph of Lizzie Applegate in the book in the library. _But what could Lizzie Applegate have to do with this house?_

Among the old papers were a playbill for one of Lizzie's plays, _The Bandit's Treasure_, and a sheet of music for a song from the play. Some of the words on the sheet were circled – they read _find Diego on stairs._

Nancy, puzzled, put the papers back and climbed down from the attic. She went to the stairs, and suddenly it dawned on her. There were five wooden bars on the grand staircase with letters on them. Nancy had just assumed it was for decorative purposes, but maybe, just maybe-

Nancy twisted each bar around so the letters spelt _Diego_. She heard a click, and a panel under the bars slid open to reveal a letter, a charm, and the last missing tile.

Nancy eagerly undid the ribbon around the letter, keeping the charm. It was a gold Chinese character – Nancy wasn't sure what it meant.

The letter read:

_Diego,_

_I've waited so long for your return but have kept our treasure true. Here is the tool you will need to find it. May your rainbow never run out of luck. _

_-E_

Suddenly, Nancy began to understand.

E Valdez was Elizabeth Applegate. Lizzie had married this Diego Valdez person and lived in the mansion at the time it was a hotel. Since the papers in the parlour described E Valdez as a hotelier, it was probable she had owned the hotel. But where did treasure come in?

Was this why someone was causing the accidents? To make Rose give up on the mansion, so they could find the treasure for themselves? Who out of the four working and living in the mansion would do that?

Nancy made her way to the library. There she could rid herself of the tiles and lighten her load. But after inserting the tiles in their place over the fireplace, Nancy heard a clicking noise. Frowning, she inspected the fireplace. One of the phoenix statuettes had moved forward slightly. Instinctively, Nancy tugged on the statuette. A grinding noise startled Nancy, and she sprang back from the fireplace, watching one of the bookcases swing back to reveal a secret passage.

Nancy gasped. _This house is just one surprise after another._ She entered the passageway, using her flashlight to illuminate the darkness. A couple of old paintings lay on the ground, and-

Nancy stood on her tiptoes. One of the bricks in the wall was loose, and light was shining from behind it. Nancy carefully removed the brick and gasped for what seemed like the millionth time that night. There were two carefully cut peepholes, cut from the painting hanging on the wall directly outside the passage. The eyes of the painting were cut out, so anyone could hide in the passageway and watch the people in the library doing what they did.

Nancy decided to head back to her room. Her head was spinning with all of the clues she had uncovered, and she needed desperately to just sit down and think.

Settling down on her bed, Nancy got out her notebook and started writing.

_Accidents_

Why is C. so uptight about them?

Who is causing them, and why? – to look for treasure or..?

_House_

Used to be a hotel

E. Valdez- Elizabeth Applegate? And who is Diego?

Treasure?!

Secret passageway in library

_Who's Who:_

_Rose_

Insured house for $1,000,000!

_Abby_

Faked the séance… but why?

Believes in ghosts… or does she?

Planted speakers in vents?

_Charlie_

Very touchy about accidents.

Not bad to look at. At all.

_Louis_

Using the library (to look for what?)

Closing her notebook and satisfied with the events of the day, Nancy rested her head on the pillow, closing her eyes and drifting into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been ages since I last updated and for that I apologize profusely, but I've been dealing with exams for the past month. Now that school's out, however, I can write to my heart's content and hopefully finish this thing! Wooo! This chapter contains some Nancy/Charlie moments, so for all you (Narlie? Chancy?) shippers out there, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.

Chapter 4: In Which The Plot Thickens

Nancy woke at nine in the morning, yawning and stretching her arms over her head in a state of complete restfulness. She mentally made a list of her goals for the day – to talk to Abby about the séance, find out more about Louis and Charlie, and look around the mansion for more clues on the treasure. _Maybe I could even get closer to Charlie_, she thought, before quickly brushing the thought away with a roll of her eyes. _It's like you break up with one guy, and become instantly crazy for the first one you lay eyes on after._

After eating the breakfast Rose had thoughtfully brought her, showering and brushing her teeth, she opened her door. She wanted to call Bess Marvin and George Fayne – they were her best friends, and Nancy always valued their advice on her cases, but she stopped short when she saw the carefully folded note on the floor in front of her. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the note. In a big, untidy scrawl on a sheet of thick brown paper, somebody had written a threatening message.

_Leave the mansion now._

Nancy stared at the words, heart beating harder in her chest. She slipped the note into her journal and left the room, locking the door behind her, then made her way to the parlour to use the phone.

As soon as she opened the door she knew something was wrong. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and a crackling noise. Then Nancy saw it.

The box filled with the old papers she had looked through yesterday was on fire. The flames, sending plumes of smoke through the air, threatened to spread fast. Nancy knew she had to do something.

"Fire!" she yelled, looking around the room for something – _anything – _that could put the fire out. Then she remembered. She opened the door to a small cupboard and grabbed the fire extinguisher inside, spraying its white mist all over the contents of the box. When all the contents of the fire extinguisher were gone, she dropped it and sank down on the floor next to the charred box, shaking. She heard footsteps rushing towards the room and closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

"The fire department thinks it was caused by sparks from the fireplace, since it doesn't have a screen. And I specifically told Charlie to get one! How could he have forgotten? But I don't think that's how it happened. The fireplace was so far away from that box, sparks would have to really fly to reach it," Rose said. The fire department had left, and Rose and Nancy were sitting at the table in the dining room discussing the fire. "Maybe I should take Louis' advice and cut my losses before it's too late…"

"What's Louis' advice?" Nancy asked.

"He has a client who might want to buy the place; someone with more experience and money to finish the renovations." She sighed. "No. I am bound and determined to stick with this house no matter what. Nothing can drive me away. I don't care if it's fires, earthquakes, or Mr. Valdez and his band of ghosts!" Rose finished, her lips pursed determinedly in a thin line.

Nancy rose from her seat. "Rose, I should probably get looking around now. But please talk to me if there's anything, anything at all, that you think could help me."

Rose nodded. "Thanks again, Nancy, for everything. Keeping your cool back there – I owe you a lot for it."

Nancy left the room, then headed straight to the parlour to scope out the damage that had been done. She picked up a scorched, blackened fragment of paper. It was no use – nothing had been spared.

She then opened the door to the library. Louis was seated in his usual spot at the desk, and upon seeing Nancy he spoke.

"Ah, Nancy. What a shame to have lost those papers – and to think that we almost lost the house! Rose is very fortunate to have you here."

Nancy smiled. "It was really nothing." Her voice took on a more serious tone. "Were the papers very valuable?"

Louis hesitated – a fraction of a second, but Nancy noticed it nevertheless. "Not for my purposes, no. But they must have had some sentimental value." There was a small pause, and Nancy considered what Louis had just said, suspicion in her thoughts. Surely documents that age would be a fantastic historical find? But she kept quiet, changing the subject instead.

"I was just wondering whether you knew anything about an E. Valdez. I thought I'd seen his name somewhere in relation to the house."

Was it Nancy's imagination, or had Louis frowned as soon as he heard the name? "E. Valdez… no, I've never heard that name before. But I'll jot it down and let you know if I come across it anywhere."

Nancy had nothing left to say to Louis, so she ended the conversation with a murmured "I won't keep you any longer" and left the room deep in thought. Louis had seemed sketchy to her, as though trying hard not to let anything slip. The question was, what was he hiding?

And then it came to her. The perfect plan. But she couldn't act on it until the next day, so for the moment she satisfied herself with a phone call.

Bess picked up on the third ring. "Marvin residence, Bess speaking."

"It's me. Is George there?"

"Nancy! Let me put it on speaker." There was a click, and George's voice cried out. "Nancy! How have you been?"

"Good, just settling in. How are things at home?"

"They're fine. But let's not talk about us. You have a case to tell us about!" Bess said excitedly.

Nancy smiled. She could practically sense Bess jumping up and down on the other side of the call. "Well, there's a woman living in the house, a friend of Rose's, called Abby. She's very eccentric – she believes in ghosts and held a séance last night. But she faked the séance, so I'm not sure whether she's actually as spiritual as she pretends."

"Sounds dodgy to me," said George.

"Who else is living there with you?" asked Bess.

"Well, there's Charlie. He's been helping Rose with the renovations."

"Is he cute?" Bess wanted to know. Nancy laughed – typical Bess.

"I guess… I mean, _you_ might think so…" Nancy quickly changed the subject. "I'm really coming along, case-wise. Last night I discovered a letter from one Elizabeth Applegate, the actress, to a Diego, giving him instructions to find a treasure buried in the house! So I'm thinking that may be the motive for all these accidents. If someone knows about the treasure, they may want everyone out of the house so they can look for it themselves."

There was silence on the other end of the receiver. Finally George spoke. "Wow, Nancy. That's… huge."

"What are you going to do next?" asked Bess.

"Find the treasure, I guess," said Nancy.

Another pause, then Bess spoke. "You know, you completely avoided my question about that Charlie guy. Do you like him or what?"

Nancy sighed. "I think so."

"Then why do you sound so… miserable? _Loooooove is a many-splendored thing!_" Bess sang.

Nancy had to laugh at that, but she quickly grew serious again. "Well, that's the thing… I'm not sure if I like him or if I'm just…"

"Rebounding off Ned?" George said.

"Exactly." Nancy felt her cheeks grow warm and internally cursed her tendency to blush.

"Nance, we have to hang up now, but don't worry about it too much," George said.

"Talk to him!"

"And be careful."

_Click._

Nancy put the phone back down on the receiver and stood up. She had already talked to Rose and Louis about the fire, and that left Abby… and Charlie.

Nancy headed for the basement.

Charlie stood behind the workbench, frowning down at the tile he was repairing as though thinking something over in his head. Nancy stood on the stairs, watching him for a second, then shook herself and spoke. "Hey, Charlie."

Charlie's eyes softened. "Hey, Nancy. I hear there's been another accident. You've got to believe me, I didn't have anything to do with it! I just hope Rose doesn't blame me for this one."

"Rose did mention the fire screen you were supposed to get…" Nancy looked down at her hands.

"But I _did _buy it! Louis told me it was the wrong type and that he'd get another one, so I returned it." Nancy looked into Charlie's eyes. He was telling the truth. That was curious in itself – Louis' name was cropping up more and more. However, just to make sure, Nancy pressed the matter one more time.

"And that's all there is to it?"

There was a strange look in Charlie's eyes – half indignant, half wounded. "Everyone always thinks I'm causing these accidents because I was the 'last one there'. But I had nothing to do with them! Nancy, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's something unusual going on in this house, and I'm determined to find out what it is."

"What makes you say that?" Nancy asked slowly. She wanted to find out how much Charlie knew, but would he trust her?

Charlie stared at Nancy for a couple of seconds, then spoke. "I don't know if I should be telling you this, but… I'm a history student, and I've been researching El Diablo, an outlaw in the eighteen hundreds, for my term paper. He was active in the years this house was running as a hotel, and I've found a few links between him and the house. There were also rumours that El Diablo was in fact Diego Valdez, a rich hermit. I know the name Valdez has been connected to this house…" Charlie took a deep breath and continued. "The reason I'm so interested in El Diablo is because he pulled off this one heist, the Great Christmas Robbery, and nobody knows what happened to the gold he stole. Some people say he hid it in this hotel when he was staying here. And I think that maybe, if somebody else knows about the treasure, that's why they're causing the accidents. So they can look for it." Charlie finished, meeting Nancy's eyes nervously.

Nancy said nothing. Instead, she pulled Elizabeth's letter out of her satchel and thrust it into Charlie's hands, watching as he read. After a few minutes he looked up, his eyes wide.

"So… what now?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey lovelies! Seeing as I've been able to include a lot of action in each chapter, it looks like we won't be needing many more to finish the story. Realistically there will be about three more chapters after this one, making this a mini-fic – a ficella, if you will. Short, but very sweet. So without further ado I bring you chapter five!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Chapter Five: In Which Nancy Gets Down To Business

Nancy took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. She looked up at Charlie. "Charlie… do you know why I'm here? I mean, why I'm staying here in the mansion?"

Charlie frowned. "To help Rose with renovations? Aren't you a friend of a friend of hers or something?"

"Well, partly. Rose invited me over to help with renovations, but there's a little more to it. You see, in River Heights, where I live, I'm sort of known for running into trouble. I've solved a few cases – nothing big of course. Mainly vandalism, theft, threatening messages – things like that." She paused, taking a breath and continued. "Rose asked me here because the accidents were scaring her. She wanted to find out who was behind them, so here I am. I've been doing a little poking around, and last night…"

As Nancy filled Charlie in on what she had found, his eyes grew wide. When she finished he let out a low whistle.

"So let me get this straight. E. Valdez is Elizabeth Applegate, the actress."

"Yes."

"And she was married to Diego Valdez, who was El Diablo, the bandit."

"Yes."

"And the treasure Elizabeth mentioned is the gold from the Great Christmas Robbery… and it's in this house." The two stared at each other until Charlie spoke again. "So what do we do now?"

"Find the treasure. Find out who's been sabotaging the renovations. End this." As Nancy spoke a shiver went down her spine and she looked at Charlie, full of a sudden excitement. Then she remembered what she had come to do. "Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"

Charlie blinked abruptly and looked away. "Sure, go ahead. Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the piano seat.

Nancy pulled the seat over and sat down. "How do you like working for Rose and Abby?"

"Rose is alright. But Abby can be a little weird. I think she gets on Rose's nerves sometimes."

"What do you mean?" asked Nancy, intrigued.

"Well, she always does a disappearing act whenever Rose needs her to do some work, and I think Rose has sort of had it, you know?"

_Interesting_. "How about Louis Chandler? Do you know him?"

"He's an antique dealer. We haven't talked much, but he seems nice, if not a little stressed. I don't really know him."

Nancy frowned, deep in thought. "You know, Louis strikes me as a bit secretive. I've talked to him a couple of times and both times he seemed to be hiding something. I'm just not sure that his 'consulting work' in the library is what it seems. And then there's Abby – she held a séance last night for Rose and I, which she faked, by the way. Why go out of your way to fake a séance? I also found a couple of speakers in the vents, wired up to make scary noises – although I'm not sure it was her that put them there. But it seems like it. I just wish I knew what she was up to."

"So it's Louis and Abby, then? Our main suspects?"

"That sounds right. I doubt Rose would do this to her own house." There was just one more question Nancy wanted to ask. "Have you come across any hidden passageways in here?" Nancy wanted to figure out just how much Charlie knew about the house.

"What, you mean like a trap door leading to a room with skeletons or something? No, I haven't." Charlie laughed, but avoided Nancy's eyes.

Nancy nodded, but her mind was whirling. Although she doubted Charlie was behind the accidents, he was definitely hiding something… but what?

"I'll let you get back to your renovations, but I'll be in later to talk to you."

"See you round Nancy," Charlie smiled.

The next step was to talk to Abby. Nancy made her way to Abby's room and was about to knock on the door when a voice cracked like a whip through the air.

"You have become completely distracted by all of this spiritualism garbage! What's to say you weren't in the parlour burning one of your candles?" It was Rose. Nancy quickly turned the corner and flattened herself against the wall, trying not to make a sound.

"Excuse me for trying to promote this place! It's good business sense!" That was Abby.

"Well, I guess we won't have to worry about advertising if the mansion burns down!"

"You've given up!" shouted Abby. "You want the mansion to burn to the ground! That way you don't have to worry about losing your investment – you'll just collect the insurance!"

"How dare you! Are you accusing me of fraud?" Rose's voice wavered.

There was silence for a moment, and Nancy was just about to slip away when Abby spoke.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I don't know. It's just… all these accidents, and now this? I know you're dedicated to this house. I'm sorry for doubting you."

Rose sighed. "Let's just finish up these curtains. I think the stress of the past few weeks has finally gotten the better of us." Silence fell, and Nancy left for her room.

An hour later Abby had left the mansion for her break. Nancy knew the schedule off by heart, so it was with complete confidence that she quietly slipped into Abby's room, pulling the door shut behind her with a satisfying _click_.

Her first thought upon entering was that the amount of purple and blue in the room was enough for life. Then she spied something a lot more interesting than the wall hangings. On a table by Abby's bed was a book titled 'Old West Romances'. A red tasselled bookmark marked a chapter entitled 'Lizzie Applegate and the Bandit'. _Coincidence? _Nancy put the book down and walked over to Abby's desk. Resting on top of a magazine was the book 'Fortune Telling For Business Popularity'. It seemed Abby was as much a genuine fortune teller as Nancy herself. But why would she go to all the trouble to fake a belief in the supernatural? Was it business sense, as she had told Rose, or was she trying to scare everyone away from the mansion?

On the wall above Abby's desk was a framed artwork. The frame hung away from the wall, but it was of no danger of falling off – almost as if it were a door attached to the wall. Nancy pulled the painting aside and gasped.

Behind the painting was the back of the mirror that was built into the wall of the hallway. Now it proved to be a two-way mirror, a window built into the walls of Abby's room. _That explains why she always creeps up on people! She'll always know who's lurking around these hallways,_ Nancy thought, then shivered. Had Abby spied her sneaking around the mansion the night before?

Nancy checked her watch nervously. She had three hours left – plenty of time to search the room, and yet she felt the most curious sensation – almost as if she was being watched. She searched the rest of Abby's room, finding nothing of interest, and finally came to the last possible place a clue could be hidden – Abby's wardrobe. Holding her breath, she opened the door of the wardrobe.

Inside was an array of equipment. On top of a cassette player sat an empty box of spy cameras – bizarre in itself – and a screen, flashing between the various hallways of the mansion. So Abby had installed cameras around the mansion – was she behind the speakers as well? Below the cassette player was some sort of CD player with an intricate wiring system and buttons numbered from one to ten. Nancy pressed a button, and the room filled with the sound of the crying Nancy had heard the day before. That proved it.

Nancy had nothing else to look for, so she left Abby's room, making sure everything was the way she had found it. There was nothing else she wanted to do that day, and she was too tired to talk to any of the other tenants of the house, so she retired to her room, full of anticipation for the following day.

As soon as Nancy woke up she showered, ate breakfast, and hurried down to the library. Louis arrived at the mansion at twelve o'clock and Nancy had ten minutes to hide in the secret passageway before he showed up. Finally she entered the passageway and, making sure the step she stood on was secure, brought her eyes to the peepholes in the wall.

Louis entered the library and, throwing his briefcase down on an armchair, went immediately to a bookshelf rather than his usual spot at the wooden desk. Nancy watched as Louis searched the shelves, eventually pulling out a book with a hopeful expression on his face. "Aha!" he exclaimed. "That's it!"

"Louis?" Nancy heard Rose call out from inside the parlour. "Are you in there? We need your help down in the basement."

"I'll be right there," called Louis, stowing the book in his briefcase before leaving the library.

Nancy came out of her hiding place. Rose and Charlie were moving heavy objects in the basement, so Louis would be a good twenty minutes helping them. Still, she felt a pang of anxiety as she moved towards the briefcase.

The briefcase was open, one side gingerly resting on the other with the book caught in between them. Nancy opened the case and surveyed the contents.

The book Louis had been searching for was 'Through Our Own Voices: An Oral History Of Chinese Immigrants In California'. The page he had marked detailed the story of one Ling Tang, a chef for Elizabeth Applegate at the Golden Gardenia Hotel – the mansion! He referred to the mansion as _Gum Bo Fu_. Could that have been what Louis was looking for?

Louis had clipped two newspaper cuttings to the underside of the lid of his briefcase. One was titled 'Hidden Treasure In Our Homes' and was highlighted. The other was titled 'Rick Arlen: Back With A Vengeance' and, looking through it, Nancy's blood froze cold.

The article was about her.


End file.
